


A Shortcut...

by Hope



Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mathom, hobbitfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-11-17
Updated: 2002-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-02 13:31:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hope/pseuds/Hope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>movie canon. what did Merry and Pippin get up to before they (literally) bumped into Frodo and Sam?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Shortcut...

**Author's Note:**

> A mathom

"Merry."

Merry didn't think he'd be inclined to ever move again. Sunlight was soaking pleasantly through his weskit and shirt, warming his skin, and they were far out enough in the field that by the time noon brought real heat; the shade of the nearby oak would cover him quite nicely.

"Merry."

Noon -- that thought brought with it the promise on luncheon, and Merry's stomach, though still quite satisfactorily full from both first and second breakfast, gurgled its approval.

"_Merry._"

Merry yelped, his body jerking upright in surprise. He beat frantically at his ear for a moment then turned to Pippin -- who was twirling a stem of clover between his fingertips with a quite innocent expression on his face -- and scowled.

"Was that entirely necessary?" Merry asked, with the voice of one long-suffering, still trying to rub the tickle out of his ear.

Pippin shrugged, suppressed a grin. "It's not my fault you're boring. I didn't come all the way to Buckland to watch you _sleep_."

"Well I can't help it if I'm tired. What do you expect if you keep me up all night?"

Pippin snorted. "You didn't seem to have any objections to me 'keeping you up' _last_ night."

Merry made a rude noise.

"I'll have none of that, Meriadoc," Pippin said imperiously, suddenly rising, abandoning the wilted clover and hauling Merry to his feet. "I'm your guest, and I expect you to entertain me!"

Merry groaned. "Can't I entertain you with my eyes closed?" he said half-heartedly.

"No," Pippin said firmly. "But if you don't have any ideas . . ." He screwed his face up for a moment in concentration, thrusting a hand into his pocket then drawing it out again with a cry of triumph, holding up a hairpin with a rather ill-looking cameo barely clinging to the end.

"That?" said Merry. "That's meant to entertain us?"

"Well seeing as _your_ escapades this morning meant that we won't be allowed back into Brandy Hall -- let _alone_ its kitchens -- before supper, we'll --"

"_My_ escapades!?" Merry exclaimed. "_You're_ the one who decided to go for the whole jar of jam. They wouldn't have noticed just a few loaves missing."

"Yes, Merry," Pippin said patiently. "But I was clever enough not to get caught."

Merry sighed, eyeing the hairpin. "All right," he said at length. "Follow me."

 

*

"Are you _sure_ there's fish in this part of the river?" Pippin asked for at least the third time in the half hour since they'd cast the hook (complete with wriggling worm) into the water. He shifted uncomfortably, jerking slightly the length of twine (dug out of Merry's pocket), the end of which was tied firmly to his big toe.

"Yes," said Merry patiently. "It's all dark and shady and calm, just how the catfish like it. Keep _still_!"

"I don't see why I should have to," Pippin grumbled. "If I were a catfish, I should prefer my food to be moving."

"You _are_ a catfish," Merry stated.

Pippin couldn't think of a proper answer to _that_, so he brushed it off with another (loud) sigh, and lay back against the gnarled roots of the willow behind him. He turned his head to look at Merry -- crouched on the bank, digging in the dark soil -- and frowned. "I don't see why _I_ should have to sit here while _you_ get to dig the worms."

"It was your idea to go fishing."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was _not_, and I'm the guest so I'm always right."

Merry snorted. "You've spent at least as much time in this river as I have, so don't go claiming otherwise, or _I'll_ claim all the best mushrooms as my guest-right at the next Tuckborough feast."

Pippin hmphed, crossing his arms heavily (and deliberately jerking the line in the process), closing his eyes against the dappled light coming through the willow-leaves.

"Pippin." Merry's voice was low and close, and Pippin opened his eyes in delighted anticipation to find --

"_Merry!_" He shrieked, jerking back from the purple slimy thing in wriggling between Merry's fingertips.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" Merry said proudly.

"I thought they were _he_s if they had rings?" Pippin asked curiously, leaning forward a little closer to peer at the worm, curiosity soon overcoming his shock. He touched the slimy body with a fingertip, it curled away from him.

Merry grimaced, lifting the worm a little higher and examining it from below. "I can't believe fish _eat_ these."

Pippin looked up at Merry's face -- screwed up in concentration -- and narrowed his eyes. Merry glanced at him and paled. He recognised that look . . .

"Dare _you_ to eat it," Pippin said in a voice Merry knew too well.

Merry swallowed nervously. "I don't think it's . . . Healthy, to eat worms."

Pippin snorted. "Fish eat worms. You eat fish. What's the difference?"

"Yes, but you take the stomachs out of fish before you eat them."

"I don't," Pippin said nonchalantly.

"Yes, but--" Merry stopped suddenly. "Never?"

Pippin shrugged. "Never."

"You mean to tell me that you've fed me fish you haven't even _gutted_?!" Merry grimaced. "No wonder all your meals taste so awful."

"Oi!" Pippin cried indignantly, lurching forward to give Merry a shove. Merry fell backwards from his precarious crouch, arms wheeling for a moment and sending the worm flying as he landed in the mud.

"Now look what you've done," he said mournfully, watching the worm inch fatly back into the soil.

"You weren't going to eat it anyway, Merry-_maid_," Pippin scoffed.

"At least I'm not a _baby_."

"Take that back!"

"Never!" Merry leapt to his feet, drawing an imaginary weapon with a flourish. "Defend your honour with your sword!"

Pippin was going to do nothing of the sort, instead pouncing forward and landing them both into the mud on the riverbank.

"Oof! Pip, you-- _argh!_ I'll show you . . ."

Pippin shrieked in delighted horror as cold, muddy fingers sought out the most unbearably ticklish spots on his sides; and he writhed like an eel out of water, begging breathlessly until one of his feet inadvertently kicked Merry in the jaw.

Merry withdrew abruptly, both hands pressed to the side of his face.

"Merry . . .?" Pippin gasped, struggling to regain his breath. "Are you all right? Merry? Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . ."

Merry hid a grin behind his hands, then turned to face his cousin again. "Right," he said ominously, striding purposely towards Pippin. "That's it."

"What's it, Merry? I didn't mean to! _OhMerrydon'tnoIcan'tIdidn't**Merry!**_"

Pippin's garbled shriek was cut off with a loud _splash_, followed by smaller, gasping splashes as he resurfaced and beat at the water with his flailing limbs.

"'That's it' in_deed_, Meriadoc!" he spluttered. "I'll show _you_ 'that's it' . . .!"

Eventually the shouted cursing died down, and Merry straightened and wiped his eyes, unable to resist chuckling anew at the sight of his cousin, looking quite like a drowned kitten, bobbing around in the centre of the river.

"Merry," said Pippin at length, his voice low, almost a purr. "Aren't you coming to rescue me?"

Merry snorted. "Pippin, you're _swimming_. I hardly think you need rescuing."

"But Merry," Pippin said plaintively. "My clothes are so heavy, and I'm getting so _tired_. I don't know how much longer I can keep afloat."

Merry made a dismissive noise, and Pippin pouted for a moment, then sighed in resignation and stopped moving his arms, slowly sinking beneath the surface.

"Oh hah hah, very funny, Pip," Merry retorted, then frowned as the only response was a few bubbles, rising shakily to the surface then floating serenely down the river. "Pip?" he said, raising his voice a little and wading into the water. "Pippin, this isn't _funny_ anymore." He sloshed up to his thighs, his waist; wincing at the shock of the cold water on his belly.

"Pip -- _Augh!_" His shriek of surprise ended as a gurgle as something under the water gripped his knees and pulled his legs out from under him.

After some time peace returned to the stretch of river, shouts and splashes washed further down and leaving the two cousins afloat but several feet apart, watching each other warily.

Pippin sniffed. "I hardly think it was necessary to throw me in the river, Merry," he said, in an injured tone.

Merry shrugged. "You needed a bath."

Pippin wrinkled his nose suggestively. "Not as much as you did, _dear_ cousin." He shivered a little, and Merry's retort died on his lips.

"Are you cold?"

Pippin tried to shrug dismissively, but the gesture itself turned into an extended shudder. "N-no."

"Of course you are, you silly Took. Come here."

Pippin frowned, shook his head stubbornly.

"Oh, all right then," Merry swam over to him in a few easy strokes, curling his arms about Pippin's shoulders. Pippin sniffed again, appreciatively this time, and buried his icy nose in the crook of Merry's neck.

Merry sighed, pulling his cousin closer as he glanced up at the sky, the willows swaying lazily on the bank. "We can't get out until the wind dies down and the sun comes out again."

Pippin wriggled a little, twining arms about Merry's neck. "Can't we get warm in other ways?"

Merry grinned, sliding his hands down under the water and up under Pippin's shirt. "My dear cousin," he mused. "I do believe we can. And what was that you said before about not being able to swim with all your clothes on?"

*

 

"It's too tight, I can't do it," Merry groaned in frustration.

"Oh come on Merry, try a bit harder! Use your teeth if you have to."

Merry sighed and bent down again, worrying at the knot of twine on Pippin's toe with his teeth, then withdrawing again with a cry of triumph. "I think we lost the pin," he said regretfully as he wound the length of twine back into a bundle before slipping it back in his pocket.

"Oh never mind, Pervinca never really liked it anyway. It was just an old mathom from some great aunt. You might even say she left it out for me to find."

"_Might_ say," Merry said wryly, easing himself to lie down on his belly beside Pippin's reclining form. Their clothes had dried off to a slightly-damp, and under the warmth of the sun he felt himself dozing off again.

"Merry," Pippin said, accompanying the name with a poke to its owner's side. Merry's stomach growled in response. "I'm hungry. Those fish had more of a chance of eating us than we did of eating them."

Merry flopped over onto his back with a sigh, squinting up into the sky. "Well, we're on the other side of the river now anyway. We may as well keep going until we find something to eat."

"And the Maggot Farm isn't too much farther west. It's served us well in the past."

"In the past _week_," Merry snorted.

Pippin arched an eyebrow. "Merry!" he said in mock surprise. "Are you complaining?"

Merry sighed. "I suppose not," he said, accepting Pippin's proffered hand and allowing himself to be hauled to his feet.

 

*

It was about noon (well past elevensies, anyway) when they came across the blackberry patch. Though 'tangle' or 'impenetrable thicket of thorns' would be a better way to describe it than 'patch', Merry thought. And of course the birds and more intelligent animals had eaten all the ripest berries from the outside of the thicket, so it was a logical deduction that the most ripe, juicy, delicious berries would be found on the _inside_, something Pippin pointed out matter-of-factly. He looked up at Merry expectantly.

"Oooh no," Merry said firmly. "I wouldn't crawl in there if it were a blackberry _pie_ patch."

"But Merry, I had to fish while you got to dig worms." Pippin sighed dramatically. "And besides, I'm so hungry that my stomach is about to eat itself." He pouted.

"Oh, all right," Merry grumbled, shucking off his jacket and dropping to his knees, looking for a gap large enough for him to crawl through.

"Merry," Pippin said, as if he had been assured of Merry's assent all along. "My hero." He carefully held up one long sweeping arm of thorns. Merry stuck out his tongue and made a rude noise before crawling carefully forward. "No thankyou, Meriadoc," Pippin said cheerfully. "I want _blackberries_, not raspberries."

It wasn't so bad, Merry thought, once you got past the first angry barrier of thorns. And their density was definitely easing the further he got into the thicket, and the density of berries was definitely _increasing_. The density and the _quality_. Licking his lips with anticipation, he decided it was high time that he was rewarded for his efforts so far, and reached out to a cluster of berries close to the ground. They were fat, and juicy and would taste simply -- Oh. He didn't seem able to retrieve his arm. Shaking it about revealed the problem painfully, and he shifted his weight a little to use his other hand to carefully free the first; but soon discovered that now he couldn't move _either_ arms, and an exasperated sigh brought to his attention the fact that the back of his weskit was now likewise captured by thorns.

"Pippin," he said. "Pip!"

"What is it Merry? Have you found some good ones? Are you almost done?"

Merry sighed. "Yes and no. I'm stuck." He heard an unsuccessfully stifled snort of laughter.

"Well unstick yourself."

"I can't, both my arms are stuck, I can't exactly move."

This time there wasn't even an attempt to stifle the laughter. "Oh all right then, you hopeless Brandybuck," Pippin said, still chortling. "If you want something done, do it yourself." Merry rolled his eyes, biting back a retort. "Stay right where you are--" another snort "-- I'll be there in a moment."

Merry followed Pippin's progress through the thicket through the creaking rustle of the branches, wincing a little as his cousin came close enough to jar the thorns in contact with Merry.

"Here you are," Pippin said cheerfully, patting Merry's rear affectionately. "You are stuck, aren't you?"

"Yes," Merry said blandly. "I noticed that myself."

"Of course you did, dear cousin," Pippin said, unruffled. "Now . . ." He rested a hand on Merry's foot and hemmed for a moment. "Spread your legs."

"What!?" Merry started, then winched again as the sudden movement hooked the thorns a little deeper through fabric.

Pippin sighed. "Do you want to get out of here or not? Trust me, Merry."

Grumbling a little, Merry obeyed, then tried to focus on the sting of thorns digging into him rather than the feeling of Pippin wriggling quite distractingly between his knees. Pippin stopped finally, on his back facing up at Merry, grinning and flushed with exertion.

"Now hold still," he commanded, reaching up and beginning to unbutton Merry's weskit.

"Peregrin Took, now is hardly the time . . .!"

"Oh calm down, Merry," Pippin said, rolling his eyes. "Is that all you think about?" He poked his tongue out a little in concentration and set to work on Merry's shirt. "Your _clothes_ are stuck, not _you_. There now." He unclipped Merry's braces and untucked his shirt from his trousers. "Oh, just a moment . . ." He fiddled with the small buttons at Merry's wrists for a moment, then held the fabric in place as Merry carefully withdrew his arms.

Merry collapsed onto his cousin with a sigh of relief.

"Oof! Merry! You're crushing me!" Pippin protested half-heartedly, his hand skimming over the naked skin of Merry's back.

"Am not," Merry grumbled, and pushed his face into Pippin's hair. "Mmm. Sleepy." Pippin prodded him in the middle with a finger, and Merry lifted himself up again to look into Pippin's face. "What do you want to do now?"

"Hmm," Pippin mused. Merry watched as he reached out, plucked a nearby berry, swollen and dark with juice, and brought it back to his mouth; watched at close range as it burst between Pippin's teeth. He licked his lips. "Eat."

"Yes," he purred, a little breathlessly, intercepting the next by grasping Pippin's wrist and bringing the berry to his own mouth. Pippin's cry of protest trailed out as Merry bit a bit further down Pippin's fingers than perhaps strictly necessary. "Eat."

"Eat . . . What . . . ! Merry . . ." Pippin struggled to regain control of his voice as Merry decided that his neck looked quite delectable, and lowered his mouth again to explore the theory with his lips and tongue.

"Mmph," Merry mumbled, teeth grazing. "You taste like river-water."

"Well whose fault is that?" Pippin gasped, sliding his fingers into the curves of Merry's shoulder blades, reluctant to relinquish what little control of the situation he had.

"Yours," Merry replied as he freed his mouth for a moment, cutting off Pippin's somewhat half-hearted indignant cry as he lowered it again on Pippin's mouth.

"Merry," Pippin mumbled breathlessly into Merry's mouth, then again "_Merry_," and "Merry!", grabbing a handful of Merry's side to pinch.

"Ouch!" Merry withdrew, rubbing his side. "What did you do that for?"

"Because we can't do _this_\--" Pippin dragged Merry's head down again by the ears, kissing him loudly, briefly "-- here."

Merry pouted. "Why not?"

"Because," Pippin rolled his eyes, gesturing around them. "I don't particularly feel like being used as a pincushion, and if you don't move soon I think my legs are going to fall off."

"Oh," Merry shifted a little, and Pippin grunted gratefully and wriggled his toes. "Maybe we should go out again." He rose to a crouch again and winced as a thorn scratched his back, shifting uncomfortably. "Er, Pip?" he said at length. "I don't think I can turn around."

Pippin lifted his head to peer at Merry. "Why not?"

"There's not enough room."

Pippin snorted in amusement, letting his head fall back to the ground. "Well you should have thought of that _before_ you decided to come in here and harvest blackberries." He popped another berry in his mouth, savouring it thoughtfully, then tilting his head back further to look behind him. "Merry. It looks lighter back there. Maybe we can get out the other side?"

Merry crawled forward cautiously, peering in the direction of Pippin's gaze. "I think you might be right, dear cousin," he said, grinning. "Come on then," he commanded. "Up!"

Pippin grumbled, rolling over onto his front and rising to crawl. "Merry, I hardly think you should be bossing me around, seeing as I just saved us from certain death."

Merry raised an eyebrow. "Certain death from what? Running out of berries to eat in the immediate vicinity?"

"No, certain death from you getting so fat from eating all the berries that you block the way out." Pippin retorted, then yelped as Merry pinched his rear.

"You'd have to eat _me_ to get out, then."

"That doesn't make sense. Then I'd be fatter than you were in the first place, and I still wouldn't be able to get out."

"Maybe you would explode from eating too much, and blast all the blackberries away."

Pippin paused in his crawling, looking over his shoulder with an expression of bemusement. "Merry," he said, as if calmly telling a child what's what. "Don't be silly." He shook his head, turned forward and continued to crawl. "You can _never_ eat too much."

Merry was saved from replying by a sudden gasp from up ahead.

"Merry, _look_!" Pippin's rump abruptly disappeared, and Merry blinked at the sudden excess of light, peering blearily upwards to where fewer strands of careening blackberry branches criss-crossed the sky, then looking down and around the clearing that had opened up in front of them.

"Merry," Pippin said, awed, falling to his knees again near a particularly abundant cluster of berries. "There's so _many_!"

It wasn't a clearing, really, more of a cavern formed by a fortunate break in the growth of the blackberry bushes; too far away from each other to form that impenetrable 'roof' Merry had crawled in under at first. But Pippin was right: there were so _many_ blackberries in here; and the grass was thick and green, but as well-mown as any of the lawns at Bag End -- obviously it was the grass in here the rabbits were after, and not the berries, though Pippin was currently trying to remedy the over-abundance, obviously in an attempt to make up for the lack of winged access.

Pippin's pleasure manifested itself now in the occasional grunt as he stuffed handfuls of the rich purple berries into his mouth, turning to give Merry a purple grin, juice trickling down his chin, before turning back to the task at hand. Merry's stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him why he was here; and the burst of flavour in his mouth as he bit down on the first berry made the spot under his tongue ache, hardly needing to even chew at the cool flesh before he popped the second one in his mouth, and the third, and the fourth . . .

"Merry," Pippin groaned at length, staggering into the approximate centre of the clearing and slumping onto the ground, still obstinately forcing berries into his mouth from the makeshift pouch of his shirt in front of him. "I think I'm going to turn into a blackberry."

"You already have, by the looks of you," Merry commented, lowering himself onto the grass near Pippin, leaning back on his elbows. "Anyone would think you didn't know where your mouth was."

Pippin pouted, the usually effective expression somewhat spoiled by the purple stain of his mouth. And his chin. And several smears across his cheeks. And one on his forehead where he'd obviously reached up to push back his hair with juice-covered fingers. He popped another berry into his mouth.

Merry sighed. "And you're ruining your shirt."

"At least I _have_ a shirt to ruin, Merry," Pippin retorted, and Merry looked down at himself in surprise; he'd forgotten, in the immediate demand to _eat_, that he was half-naked, shirt and weskit left to clinging thorns back the way they had come from, and he rubbed at several spots of juice on his skin, frowning.

"At least I can wash my stains _off_."

"I can wash mine off too."

"No you can't. Blackberry juice stains clothing. Just ask your mother." Merry smiled sweetly and Pippin blanched, the effect startling with the contrast of dark berry juice.

"I'll just have to us your shirt instead then, Merry." Pippin said stoutly, recovering enough from the thought of his mother's ire to eat another blackberry.

"My shirt isn't going to help your face," Merry said, and Pippin stopped in the motion of bringing another berry up to his mouth and gazed at Merry with a wounded expression. Merry laughed. "Silly Pip. I meant the juice. It's all over you." He crawled over to his cousin, taking Pippin's face in his hands and rubbing at the juice stains with his thumbs. His attempts were unsuccessful, so he rubbed a little harder. Pippin pulled a face.

"Ow, Merry! That hurts! I don't think it's going to come off with just your thumbs."

"Hmm, no, I suppose not," Merry said thoughtfully, then ducked forward to swipe his tongue from Pippin's jaw to his cheekbone.

"Merry!" Pippin laughed, squirming a little, but held very still as Merry licked again, closer to his mouth. "Merry," he said again, and opened his mouth; but Merry laughed softly -- warm puffs of air against the wet -- and licked around his lips carefully.

"You're such a tease," Pippin mumbled somewhat absently, shoving lightly at Merry's chest then leaving his hand resting on the bare skin and tilting his head back a little as Merry's mouth moved over his chin.

"I'm just getting my own back," Merry said breathily, and Pippin snorted lazily, struggling to get his eyes back into focus. The smell of crushed grass and blackberries and Merry was making him very warm.

"For what?" Pippin slurred.

"Countless times," Merry said, nipping at the line of Pippin's jaw then drawing back a little to comb his fingers through Pippin's juice-sticky hair. Pippin half-closed his eyes, almost purring at the familiar touch; but his Tookish heritage wouldn't let Merry get away with having the last word _that_ easily.

"Well I suppose that's all fair and good, then," he said lightly, then slid his hand around to rest on Merry's shoulder blade, drawing himself forward and saying, "One good turn deserves another. And you still have juice on your chest, Merry." Before pressing his open mouth to smooth skin and _licking_, tasting blackberries and the earth-sunlight taste of Merry's skin; grinning against it as he heard Merry's gasp.

"Indeed," Merry said at length, somewhat breathless. "One g--" He had to stop suddenly as Pippin's roaming tongue found a nipple and tasted it eagerly, his voice descending into a wordless bleat. He shuddered, tried again. "One good turn deserves another." His fumbling fingers sought out the buttons of Pippin's weskit, undoing the top few with a brief struggle, then attacking the shirt buttons below, unable to wait.

"Oh, rot," Pippin breathed as his hand released the pouch of berries at the first touch of Merry's hand on his chest, spilling them into the grass like purple gems.

"Never mind," Merry groaned, finally drawing Pippin's mouth up to his for a sticky kiss. "There's plenty mo-- _mmm_ . . . more."

Pippin's mouth was still delightfully purple, and the inside still tasted like berries; sweet and definitely sticky, though the skimming of Pippin's hands over his back was making shiver. "Pip," he grunted, finally finishing with all the buttons and sliding his hands onto bare skin, pushing clothing away. Pippin made a small displeased sound as he was forced to uncurl his arms from around Merry and shrug off his shirt; but made a louder sound of satisfaction as Merry drew him back in to press their chests together.

"You're still all sticky," Pippin breathed, tongue wet on Merry's ear, shifting his chest experimentally.

"That's from your mouth, not my table manners," Merry mumbled, settling his hands around Pippin's waist and urging him forward.

Pippin came eagerly, opening his knees to straddle Merry's lap, locking them closer together. "You don't _have_ any table manners, Merry," he said matter-of-factly, shifting his hips until he was comfortable and Merry was quite out of his mind.

"_Mmph_\-- Maybe so," Merry murmured, leaving a trail of wet kisses down the side of Pippin's throat. "But that doesn't mean I don't like eating." He closed his mouth on the angular muscle where Pippin's neck joined his shoulder.

"Well of course not," Pippin gasped, his fingers creeping up to circle Merry's nipple again, still wet from his mouth, eliciting a most delightfully sudden movement from Merry. He laughed breathlessly. "Anyone could see that from looking at you. Ow!" He tweaked the nipple lightly. "No biting."

Merry groaned again, a most wonderful sound that made Pippin want to do the same to the other nipple, which he did; then felt slightly guilty and made it up with an apologetic lick, making matters even worse.

"Pip," Merry growled, his hands sliding low and clasping Pippin's hips tightly. "If you do that again I'm going to have to--"

"Have to what, Merry?" Pippin asked, lifting his head from an experimental suck, and Merry ground his hips up against him. "Oh," Pippin said, sounding slightly awed and not a little breathless. His fingers danced lower, to Merry's waistband; and then Merry's hands didn't seem to want to let go of his hips, so Pippin unbuttoned his own breeches as well.

And then he couldn't do anything but gasp as Merry pushed up again, and _this_ was most definitely a lovely desert to a luncheon of blackberries; not to mention Merry's mouth still eagerly moulding itself to the line of his collarbone; his skin vibrating delightfully at Merry's intermittent moans.

"Merry," Pippin whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and pushing down.

"Mmm . . . Pip," Merry groaned in response. "What is it?"

"Merry . . . Come closer."

Merry snorted breathy laughter, puffs of air cool on Pippin's burning skin. "I am close, you blasted Took-- Oof!" He laughed anew as Pippin heaved forward and overbalanced them both; cringing a little as he felt several discarded berries squish under his shoulder blades. Shifting to get comfortable left them both more than a little breathless, and feeling Pippin push shakily down drove all thoughts of berries or stains from his mind.

It was easy, then, for Merry to fall into the familiar rhythm, to roll over and squeeze breathless laughter out of Pippin, pinned beneath him, tasting like crushed grass and berry-juice and moving to bring sparks behind Merry's eyelids, making it feel as if he had warm honey coursing through his veins. Over soon enough after that, falling into heated darkness as Pippin's rhythm broke and he pressed up hard against Merry one last time and went limp with a satisfied sigh.

"Merry," Pippin mumbled at length, licking a track of berry juice that had somehow gone unnoticed from Merry's chin. "You're crushing me again." He squirmed a little until Merry rolled off him bonelessly, then sat up, scooping up a few more berries into his mouth as he retrieved his shirt, popping them in his mouth as he buttoned it and shrugged on his braces. "Merry!" He dug a toe into Merry's side and Merry rolled over, gripping his cousin's foot and twisting it so Pippin fell to the ground again. He scowled.

"Did you have magic beans for breakfast?" Merry asked, tickling Pippin half-heartedly before he wriggled away again. "Let an old hobbit have some rest." He lowered his head back on his arms, ignoring Pippin's snort and letting his eyes slide shut, breathing in deep the rich scent of crushed grass and river water soaked into his skin. It wasn't long before he felt hairy toes poking at his side again and he opened his eyes with a sigh, turning his head to squint up at where Pippin was sitting, berry-stained pout prominent.

"I thought you liked blackberries?"

"I do, but it's past luncheon, Merry, and we're not at the Maggot Farm yet." He slipped another berry into his mouth, burped.

Merry sighed again, rolling over and sitting up. "All right then," he said, setting his trousers to rights before attempting to rise fully. He plucked a few more berries for himself before gesturing to the break in the bushes they had entered through. "After you."

*

Merry buttoned his shirt reluctantly as the went on, jacket hanging back on his shoulders. Though the air had started off crisp, the afternoon sun was out in full force, and the pleasantly heavy weight of his limbs longed to languish in the shade instead of pacing steadily along the road. Pippin didn't seem to have any such qualms, skipping ahead in the deep grass along the side of the road, swinging a rather long makeshift walking stick in front of him. Merry's stomach, however, didn't take long to catch up with Pippin's eagerness, making its presence known when they had been walking for what couldn't be more than an hour, sending Merry's mouth watering with the thought of Farmer Maggot's late harvest.

"Ho there, Pippin!" he called up ahead to where Pippin still doggedly waded through the roadside grass, head down. He slowed a little, letting Merry catch up to him. "What are you peering about for?"

"Mushrooms," Pippin grinned, licking his lips as if tasting the word in anticipation.

"It's too open for them out here. Not foresty enough."

Pippin rolled his eyes. "Merry, we've found hundreds of mushrooms in _fields_ before."

"Not at this time of year, and on a road as well-trodden as this. You get more luck looking for mushrooms in the Old Forest than you would here."

"Nonetheless," Pippin said nonchalantly, effectively ending the conversation by striding forward again, once more swinging his walking stick to part the grasses ahead of him.

As if to prove Merry wrong, a few minutes later Pippin let out a cry, diving forward to drop to his knees at the base of a gnarled oak, one of many lining the road for miles in either direction. Grinning in triumph back at Merry, he held aloft his prize.

"Pippin," Merry sighed. "That's a toadstool."

Pippin masked a quick frown, tightening his lips stubbornly. "Who says so?"

"It's bright red with white spots."

"So?"

"If you ate it you'd be throwing up blackberries, not to mention your own stomach, for several days." Maybe he was exaggerating, maybe he wasn't - he just remembered the thrashing he'd gotten from his father when Saradoc had caught him about to serve the 'mushrooms' up to Pippin, when they were both too young to know any better.

Pippin frowned outright this time. "Oh Merry, must you ruin everything? I'm _dying_ for some mushrooms and now you say that--"

"You'll be dying for real if you eat that," Merry warned again, stepping closer. "Look, Maggot's is just over the next rise, I'm _sure_ he has some mushrooms hidden away in his back fields. It's not much further now." His own stomach rumbled at the thought, and he reached down a hand to help Pippin to his feet.

"Alright then," Pippin grumbled, hauling himself up and almost pulling Merry down in the process. He left the toadstool bright in the green grass behind him. "But you had better be right!"

"Didn't I get you blackberries already today, Pip? Trust me."

"You also threw me in the river."

"Ah, well, you deserved that."

"Blast you, Meriadoc," Pippin said half-sullenly, giving Merry an indignant shove. "Don't they teach you manners in that great warren of yours?"

Merry peered at Pippin. "Well, seeing as you spend almost as much time there as I," he pondered. ". . . If you're any example, then no." He dodged another shove, laughing, and Pippin leapt after him. "Race you up the hill!"

 

*

"Merry," Pippin whispered when they were belly-flat amongst the corn stalks, having inched forward towards the small plot where Farmer Maggot was growing his last carrots of the season. A few cabbages lay hidden amongst the tall green stalks behind them. "We're better burglars than old Bilbo ever could have been. Do you think we'll ever go on adventures?"

Merry wrinkled his nose, blowing off a rather brave aphid with a purse of his lips. "I don't know, Pip," he said thoughtfully. "Mum's got enough jools at home as it is, I think we'd find more use out of carrots and potatoes than we ever would gold."

Pippin sighed. "I suppose you're right. I should like to see a dragon one day. Though," he added as an afterthought. "Gandalf's firework was enough for me, on second thoughts. I'm not sure I'd like to see one that breathes _real_ fire."

Merry chuckled quietly. "I'm not sure you'd like leaving your own feather bed, let along see dragons," he teased, and Pippin elbowed him lightly.

"I'm not sure _you'd_ like to leave my feather bed either," he retorted.

"Ah, but as long as we went together, I wouldn't mind missing out on all the feather beds in the Shire," Merry said in a grand whisper.

Pippin made a rude noise. "You sound like my sisters reciting poetry," he said, pulling a face. "Though I suppose I wouldn't mind missing out on feather beds either, as long as the adventure was well catered for."

"Peregrin Took, you are a true romantic," Merry said, and was prevented from saying any more by Pippin's finger, raised to his own bow-lips before gesturing towards the field. Merry nodded briefly and they crept forward.

They'd only uprooted a few carrots before a not-so-distant barking alerted them that in fact their presence wasn't unnoticed, and with agility borne of long practice they leapt to their feet and into the dense forest of corn-stalks, arms still full of pilfered vegetables. From there it was a breathless, green-coloured flight, their breathing loud to their ears with excitement and laughter, the flat slap of leaf-upon-leaf around them and the crunch of debris underfoot the only sounds as they raced onward until they came to a rather abrupt halt.

"Merry!" Merry heard Pippin's voice say in delight as he attempted to right himself, struggling to separate himself from the solid mass of hobbit flesh that he had slammed into. "It's cousin Frodo!"

"Hullo Frodo!" Merry said cheerfully, grinning as he watched Sam haul Frodo to his feet and dust him off fervently.

"What's the meaning of this?" Frodo questioned, appearing more than a little confused although Merry espied the familiar glint in his eye and quirk of his lips that Frodo knew all too well what the meaning of it was.

"You've been into Farmer Maggot's crops!" Sam exclaimed as Pippin piled his arms high with stolen produce, and there was a moment when all four of them froze at the sound of the Farmer's own voice coming from the direction in which they'd came, then Merry grabbed Frodo and shoved him into the forest of cornstalks, sparing a wink for Pippin before following close behind. Pippin grinned, and leapt in after them.

**Author's Note:**

> http://hopeful-fiction.livejournal.com/8160.html


End file.
